


Home for the winter

by Jaskiers_BrokenLute



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anxious Jaskier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feral Lambert (The Witcher), Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Eskel (The Witcher), Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rating May Change, Self-Indulgent, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Winter At Kaer Morhen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute
Summary: "So I'm to be meeting your father and brothers tomorrow," Jaskier stated, mostly to himself, for what felt like the hundredth time since he and Geralt had started today's trek of the mountain to Kaer Morhen."We're not actually related," Geralt opted to answer, being completely unhelpful to Jaskier's nerves."Geralt brings Jaskier home for the winter, and everything goes wrong before it goes right.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 55
Kudos: 376





	1. Chapter 1

"So I'm to be meeting your father and brothers tomorrow," Jaskier stated, mostly to himself, for what felt like the hundredth time since he and Geralt had started today's trek of the mountain to Kaer Morhen. 

"We're not actually related," Geralt opted to answer, being completely unhelpful to Jaskier's nerves. 

"Family has nothing to do with who you're actually related to," Jaskier spoke harshly, a tone of voice that he doesn't use on Geralt often, clueing the older man into the fact that this point is not to be argued.   
"And either way, they're still the equivalent for someone in your - situation. Am I right?"

His voice softened once he'd moved on from his point about family, back to his usual cheerful and light way of speaking. 

"Hmm," Geralt confirmed. He did think of Lambert and Eskel as his brothers, there's no other word for the bond that he can think of, and when he's speaking of them the word brother finds it's way into his vocabulary more often than he consciously chose to. Calling Vesemir his father seemed a little far fetched though, Vesemir was his teacher, wasn't a fatherly figure much at all at the beginning of his becoming a witcher, but after the raid on Kaer Morhen, he changed.   
He grew a bit softer, more openly caring towards the remaining wolf witchers.   
If at any point Vesemir was fatherly it was definitely after the majority of the witcher's he'd raised had been killed.   
As the years went on from that day, the relationship between the remaining witchers only strengthened, until it settled into a comfortable lull, where Geralt could safely agree with Jaskier, that they were, at the very least, the equivalent of family for people in their situation. 

"Right. So, is there anything I should know?"

Geralt turned Roach around just to raise his eyebrow at Jaskier questioningly, who dropped his arms to his sides from where they'd been constantly gesticulating. 

"When I first met you I called you 'butcher of blaviken' and got a punch in the gut for it. In order to survive the winter bruise-free, is there anything I should or shouldn't say or do?" 

"They won't hit you," Geralt said, slightly hurt that Jaskier thought he'd let anyone hurt him over the winter. 

"That's not the point Geralt, I hurt you that day and you retaliated physically. I don't care about them hitting me, I don't want to hurt them. Please Geralt, just take this seriously for one moment,"

Geralt paused as the words sunk in. Jaskier going out of his way to spare the feelings of a witcher shouldn't come as a surprise to him, he's been doing it for Geralt since they'd first began travelling together. It's the thought of him giving the same respect to someone he'd never met simply because they were close to Geralt, that left him stunned.   
As a witcher, he'd grown used to needing to earn human decency, let alone respect, but with Jaskier, it's freely given. 

Not to be misconstrued, however, Jaskier's no-questions-asked respect rarely ever expand beyond witchers, and can be lost just as quickly as it's gained.  
It's something that Geralt has always admired about Jaskier, he treats everyone exactly as he thinks they deserve to be treated in spite of titles, careers, or any sort of vice, exactly as they deserve it, no more no less.   
And for some reason, he'd decided that his fellow witchers were worthy of his utmost respect. He could only wonder how long it would take for Lambert to lose his respect. 

"Don't ask Eskel about his scars," He spoke up eventually, Jaskier's shoulders sagging in relief when the witcher finally snapped out of his thoughts and took his questions seriously.

"Which one is Eskel?" He asked, following once again when Geralt started moving up the path, their short break decidedly over. 

"You'll know when you see him." Geralt smirked out of view of Jaskier, who huffed in annoyance at the other man's non-answer, though he was sure Jaskier would understand once they reached the keep. 

"What about Lambert?" He asked a few minutes later, once he'd thought about alternate ways to ask after stories of epic battles and whether or not he could convince poor Eskel not to be ashamed of his scars (if that were the root of the problem, if not he would figure it out all the same). 

"There's not much you can say to Lambert that won't upset him,"

"You're useless."

"I'm not trying to hurt your cause Jask, he's simply more, crotchety and cantankerous than me,"

Jaskier gasped dramatically at the accusation, "Impossible," He exclaimed with as much dramatic fashion as he'd used to get out of a great many sticky situations. 

"There is no man as crotchety or cantankerous as you, my dear," Jaskier said with a touch of finality to his tone. 

"I guess you'll just have to meet him then," He shrugged. 

"Geralt, at least specify what you meant, I can't very well ignore him all winter."

"Just let him take the lead in most conversations if you're so worried. Don't take shit from him though, or you'll never live it down." He answered, trying to give Jaskier as much information as he could without getting in too deep about Lambert and his mentality towards most people. 

"When have I ever taken shit from anyone?"

Geralt opted not to answer, but the point stood. Jaskier was not known to let anyone walk all over him or the people close to him, and certainly wouldn't take it from Lambert. 

"Now, most importantly, Vesemir."

"Most important?" He questioned, somewhat agreeing by Jaskier's logic, but wanting to know what had his bard so worried about meeting the master of the keep. 

"Well, I'm a guest in his home, he is practically your father and I'm meeting him for the first time. If I want to return to be a guest there again, I need to make a good first impression." 

"He's pretty easy-going, I don't think there's anything you could say that would truly upset him, just do as he asks, don't pester him or over-step, and don't insult him."

"Sounds straight forward enough, don't ask Eskel about his scars, don't talk to Lambert unless he speaks to me, and treat Vesemir with the basic respect you would any authority figure in their home." He listed his rules on his fingers, relaying them back to Geralt who nodded along to confirm he'd gotten it right. 

"Thank you for humouring me love, I'm sure you think I'm over-reacting about the severity of making a mistake up there but a good first impression on your family is very important to me." Jaskier thanked him, worry lifted off his shoulders enough so that it didn't feel like he was carrying boulders with him up the mountain, marginally more prepared for tomorrow than he had been. 

"Now what kind of things do they like?"

It appeared, once again, to Geralt, that this was going to be a very long walk. 

_________________________________________________________

They stopped a few hours later before the sunset, Geralt had been nervous to push even marginally close to how much he did when he was alone with Jaskier. The path to Kaer Morhen is hard for even a witcher, and for a human, it's meant to be next to impossible. 

They'd made good time so far, a few days longer than Geralt or another witcher would have taken, and Geralt preferred it this way, slow and safe, more time spent alone with Jaskier on the road before they settled in for the season. 

By the time the sunset, they had a fire burning brightly in the middle of the camp ground, keeping their small circle of a camp safe from the frost beginning to set in. They'd left well before the first snow, again, to keep Jaskier safe. But Geralt told him he simply wanted to be there earlier this year because he was tired from the path. Jaskier bought the lie immediately and had been pushing to go sooner and sooner so Geralt could get some rest. 

Now, they lie together on the pressed together bedrolls, staring into the fire and the sky respectively, the comfortable silence a warm blanket over them in the chill of the night. 

"You don't think they'll kick me out, do you?" Jaskier broke the silence, his voice heavy with sleep. While his mind was left to wander before he fell asleep, his thoughts made a straight run into the worst-case scenario.   
Geralt had told him before they left for Kaer Morhen that it was very rare a human be allowed anywhere near the witcher's keep, and with no time or way for Geralt to have written ahead to Vesemir, the possibility of being turned around at the door seemed higher and higher by the second to Jaskier. 

"No," Geralt sighed with all the air in his lungs, "They will not kick you out," 

"But if they-"

"If they do, I will take you back to Oxenfurt and we will winter together there." He answered easily, using his arm around Jaskier's waist to pull him closer. 

"You'd do that?" 

"Am I meant to leave you to die?" He asked sarcastically, giving Jaskier a pinch to the side for doubting his ability to care for Jaskier. 

"Well no," He swatted his hand away, "But you'd really stay the winter in a city, which you hated when we stayed there for a week, just to make sure I made it down the path okay?"

"Yes, and if Vesemir were to force a human back down the mountain immediately after arriving, I wouldn't want to winter with him anyway." Geralt looked down at Jaskier, smiling with just the corner of his mouth when he saw Jaskier's blue eyes already staring up at him. 

"I love you, more than you know." He whispered, letting his eyes drift closed as he buried his head into Geralt's chest. 

"You too," Geralt answered, pressing a gentle kiss to his hairline. 

Truth be told, Geralt is a little nervous about tomorrow as well.   
Jaskier is his lover, something Witchers traditionally meant to keep, and certainly isn't meant to bring home to meet the family. 

Generally, he doesn't care what anyone thinks of him or his relationship with Jaskier, but this is different, this isn't just anybody.   
If they don't approve he'd have to choose between his family and Jaskier, a choice he's not willing to make. 

They'd never given him any reason to believe that they'd disapprove, even making lewd jokes whenever Geralt would mention Jaskier in winters past. But jokes are very different from reality, and they all still had no idea that he and Jaskier were actually together.   
He couldn't help but think of the possibilities that he would end up having to walk Jaskier back down the pass in the harsh of winter, there would be no guarantee that he'd even survive the way back if the weather continually got worse, especially considering the pace of a human. He'd catch his death before they were even halfway there. 

Of course, he knows Vesmir wouldn't let that happen, whether he was okay with the unexpected guest or not, he wouldn't sentence him to death.   
He would simply sentence all of them to an extremely awkward, tense winter, tip-toeing around each other, silent meals, Jaskier pretending to be alright for Geralt's sake while being entirely miserable all winter. Jaskier already has a tendency to get a little sad during the winter, if he were to be an unwelcome guest, thinking he was hated by Geralt's family all winter, there's no knowing how low he'd get, Geralt couldn't bear to watch it happen. 

The chances of either of those things happening are low but are still a possibility. 

He won't tell Jaskier any of this, the bard is already eating away at himself anxiously, Geralt wouldn't be surprised if he burst before they reached the keep with how much bottled up jitters he's got inside of him at this point.   
At least now, peacefully sleeping against his chest, Jaskier can put his mind to rest. 

The almost permanent crease of stress in his brow has softened, his hands lay still across Geralt's waist, no longer fidgeting or picking at the skin around his nails. 

Just the sight of Jaskier free of his troubles is enough to let Geralt relax into his bedroll, fill his mind with nothing but the man in his harms and peacefully drift off into a restful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at Kaer Morhen and meet the family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters aren't edited so if you see a mistake feel free to let me know or read past it.   
> And again, the characters may seem OOC, it's mostly for the sake of this specific story and how I want it to go, and it's also my first time writing any witcher other than Geralt so excuse my poor characterizations.   
> Enjoy!

Geralt wakes up with Jaskier still wrapped in his arms, he'd rolled more on top of Geralt's chest as he slept, abandoning his bedroll in favour of Geralt's torso. 

He smiles softly to himself as he looks down at his sleeping lover and the puddle of drool on his shirt still dripping from his open mouth.   
Jaskier would probably think it was gross, but Geralt can only think that he's the one lucky enough to wake up with Jaskier drooling on his chest. 

The thought would have sickened him at another time, but now it makes his chest ache in adoration. 

Trying his best to ease Jaskier awake, he gently weaves his hand into Jaskier's hair, slightly greasy from their days of travel. He'd bring him down to the hot springs once they get to Kaer Morhen, wash his hair out for him while the bard lays against his chest, fighting to keep his eyes open like he'd done so many times before. 

Jaskier begins to stir when Geralt's fingers in his hair become more deliberate, fingernails scratching at his scalp and palms occasionally flattening down areas he's messed too much. 

"Mmm," He groaned contently, pressing into Geralt's touch in a way that reminded the witcher of a cat asking to be pet. 

"Good morning," He says, an amused smile on his face as Jaskier moves with his hand. 

"Good morning indeed." Jaskier yawns into the words, finally opening his eyes to look up at Geralt.   
"Ahh, gross I spit all over you." He grimaces as he uses a dry patch of Geralt's shirt to wipe the remaining drool off his chin and cheek. 

"Lovely," Geralt comments as the wet fabric plasters itself to his chest. 

"Sorry, I figured it was already dirty anyway," Shrugging, he sits up so he's sitting across Geralt's thighs, scooting forward until he's properly sat atop his witcher's lap, a view Geralt wouldn't mind waking up to more often. 

"What's that look for?" Jaskier raises his brow comically high, crossing his arms as he gazes down at Geralt from his seat perched on his abdomen. 

"You," He answers, lifting his hands to rest on Jaskier's hips. 

"Oh yeah?" Jaskier challenges. 

"Yes." 

Geralt swings his upper body up so he's in a sitting position, face to face with Jaskier, whose biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling so wide his cheeks tear.   
The sight far too indearing to ignore, Geralt leans in for a kiss to perfect the perfect morning. 

Or, it would have if Jaskier hadn't yelped and pushed Geralt's head away with both of his hands, sending him sprawling back over Geralt's legs, giggling up at the sky. 

"Your breath stinks," He says between laughs, hands pressed to his stomach as he convulsed. 

Geralt stares dumbfounded for a moment, slightly insulted, before he can't help laughing along with the infectious giddiness of his bard. 

"My breath stinks?"

"My love, terribly." He responds, sighing out the last of his giggle fit. 

"So I don't get a kiss?"

"Not until you wash that mouth out,"

"Oh I don't know, you've wounded me. I may just never kiss you again," Geralt said, eyes to the sky as if he were thinking it over. 

"You don't mean that!" He accused, flinging himself upright.

Geralt crossed his arms and turned his face away from Jaskier petulantly. 

"Geralt!" He bounced on Geralt's legs as he waited for the man to turn back to him. 

When that didn't happen and didn't appear to be happening anytime soon, Jaskier grabbed Geralt's head in his hands, forcing him to meet his eye before pulling him into a quick open-mouthed kiss.

He pulled away almost as quickly as he'd gone into it, his expression like he'd just eaten a lemon whole. 

"You taste just as bad as you smell," He said, rubbing his tongue off on his sleeve to scrub the taste (that Geralt knew couldn't possibly be there from the barely-a-kiss they'd shared). 

"You're lucky I love you."

"Yes I am," Geralt agreed, smiling sweetly as he blew his breath into Jaskier's face. 

"Geralt!"

____________

"So, that's it?"

The top of the keep is just visible over the wall of rock and trees between them and their destination. 

"Hmm,"

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" He asked trying to keep his tone cheerful, but his voice betrayed the fear behind his question. 

Geralt nodded and urged Roach into a steady walk so that Jaskier could keep up easily, but still keep their pace steady enough to arrive within the hour.   
Trying to rein in the sensible side of himself that said everything was going to be fine if Lambert can bring home a cat he can bring home a human. 

Vesemir had grown to like Aiden even, after a while that is, but things should run smoother without the prejudice between schools of witchers. Then again, there's a heavier prejudice between witchers and humans, so how does he convince Vesemir and his brothers that Jaskier isn't like other humans?  
Vouching for him would only go so far, he'll have to depend on Jaskier's uncanny ability to grow on everyone he speaks to. It's a safe bet, Jaskier is like mould, no one can be around him too long and not grow at least a little bit attached to him in one way or another. Hopefully, the wolves will be no exception.

They reach the gates exactly when Geralt expected they would, but still too soon for his liking, but here they are, staring at the doors and very patiently waiting for them to open. 

Geralt swings off Roach, taking her lead in his hand while holding the other out for Jaskier. 

He smiled up at Geralt and wove their fingers together, giving the other mans' hand a squeeze, half to reassure himself and Geralt, and a half to quell the restlessness growing in his veins. 

The creak of the gate opening nearly made Jaskier jump out of his skin, earning a small smirk from Geralt, calming the witcher's nerves even as what they were both silently (one more silently than the other) dreading. He'd found almost everything is easier if Jaskier is there with him. 

"If it isn't the renowned white wolf," They were treated by a witcher with the bright orange hair that hung down to his shoulders framing his ginger beard. 

"Lambert," Geralt greeted easily, pulling the younger witcher into a short, slightly stiff on Lambert's end, hug. 

"This is Jaskier," Geralt steps aside as Lambert pulls away from him, arm out as if presenting Jaskier. 

"Ah, you're little lover boy. It's about damn time," He laughs at himself, taking a step forward and crossing his arms, looking Jaskier up and down. 

Jaskier tried his best to stand still as he was examined internally trying to think of anything off about his appearance or clothes that could hinder this critical first impression. 

"You were right, he is pretty." Lambert winks before turning and walking away, no doubt looking terribly pleased with himself. 

"Jaskier felt his cheeks but at the remark, as he stood stock still, only getting redder when he took in the implications of 'you were right.'  
Now, he didn't really have any expectations for, 'grumpier-than-Geralt' Lambert, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. 

"I thought he was the crotchety one?" Jaskier asked as he turned on his heels towards Geralt, who was clenching his jaw with tightened fists. Jaskier wasn't sure if the possessive jealousy is sweet or too much but settled for endearing when Geralt immediately softened when meeting his eye. 

"He must have been travelling with Aiden again," Geralt said, in lou of an explanation that Jaskier would understand. 

"Who's Aiden?" He asked, falling into step with Geralt towards the keep. 

"His, little lover boy," 

"Ah,"

\----

After settling Roach in the stable, Jaskier finally found out what Geralt had meant when he's spoken about Eskel. 

He had short hair, was about the height of Geralt, and had thick, ragged scars down the side of his face, pulling his lip up towards his cheek, even more so when he smiles, which is exactly what he did when he saw Geralt.   
Their hug was much different than his and Lambert's, it was mutually initiated, lasted longer, and they fell into it like coming home, smiling and slapping each other's backs as they pulled away. 

"Lambert said you finally brought your bard," he said as he stepped away from Geralt,   
"And I guess he wasn't lying."   
Turning towards Jaksier, he held out his hand in greeting. 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Eskel," He bowed slightly as he took Eskel's hand, the noble training he'd gone through stuck to him like honey. 

"The pleasure's mine, bard." He smiled softly, a short thing that you'd miss if you blinked.   
Well now Jaskier just isn't going to have that, he'll have Eskel smiling unashamedly by the end of winter if it's the last thing he ever does. 

"Have you seen Vesemir yet?" Eskel asked, aiming the question at both of them. 

"Not yet, we're going in now," Geralt answered, sidestepping closer to Jaskier as he spoke, unconsciously knowing Jaskier needed the comfort so close to meeting his father figure. 

"Well better get in there, Lambert's got him all excited to meet Jaskier," He winked at the bard before walking straight past them and into the stable. 

"Oh, well, better not keep him waiting then," Jaskier chuckled nervously, rubbing his fingers together, the act a nervous tick that Geralt halted by taking his hand. 

"Thank you," He whispered, squeezing Geralt's hand twice to let him know he's ready. Geralt nodded and led him to the main entrance. 

The keep is immediately warmer than outside, both in actual temperature and the surprisingly homey inside. Not homey, as in throw pillows and furs everywhere, but lived in. Something about the stones that make up the walls, the clean wooden floors tracked with boot scuffs and stains and how easily organized the few rooms they walked through made Kaer Morhen lose some of its ghost stories. It looked like a place you could feel safe, and with the introductions to both of Geralt's brothers, he felt halfway to being welcomed. 

"Geralt, it's good to see your pup." An older man with an impressive mix of soft and harsh features greeted Geralt warmly, pulling him into yet another hug. 

"Good to be back," He answered, pulling away and re-taking Jaskier's hand in his. 

"You must be Jaskier." He smiled at the man, linking his hands together behind his back. 

Jaskier's hand froze in the air where it was about to meet Vesemirs when he'd saw the movement, forming a limp, half-wave before falling back to his side awkwardly. 

"Come with me, Geralt you go get your room ready."

Jaskier's head shot up to face Geralt, squeezing his hand just once to tell him he was uncomfortable with the situation, a silent 'please don't go,'

Geralt simply nodded his ascent and dropped Jaskier's hand gently back to his side, leaving the man alone with Vesemir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the slight cliff hanger, tomorrow will bring what Vesemir needs to talk to Jaskier about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk with Vesemir leaves Jaskier suprised (Pleasantly? who knows) And he makes a step towards a relationship with Eskel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written and never re-read or edited so if anyone sees a glaring mistake please feel free to point it out! (It will be edited eventually but I want to finish writing the story first or I will lose interest which I promise I won't do unless the story has reached a place where dropping it wouldn't leave anyone unsatisfied)

Geralt simply nodded his ascent and dropped Jaskier's hand gently back to his side, leaving the man alone with Vesemir. 

"Let's talk," He extends his arm in an invitation to walk with him while he begins down one of the hallways leading out of the room, Jaskier looked around once before falling into step beside him.

Now, walking beside him he can see that he's about the same height as Vesemir, maybe a bit taller, but like any given witcher Vesemir is bulkier than him, making him appear to loom over him. Jaskier can't tell if it's that or the fact that he's Geralt's father that's more intimidating.   
All he know's is he's never been afraid of a witcher before now, and while he's not afraid of Vesemir because he's a witcher, he's certainly, tense. 

"Geralt's been talking about you for years, and I feel it's safe to assume you two are more than friends?"

"Yes sir, for nearly two years now." He answers proudly, standing a little straighter than before. One of his greatest accomplishments will always be having Geralt as his own, and him as Geralt's. Nothing fills him with more pride than boasting about this fact. 

"He's been happier since you've joined him," Vesemire stated, and while Jaskier knew this, it still made him beam, only he'd be so lucky, so persistent as to make Geralt happy again. 

"As have I sir," 

"Drop the sir, kid it's Vesemir. The reason I bring this up is to thank you. Not only have you given Geralt a meaningful life outside the path, but your songs have made people easier on witchers.   
This year, in a village where years previous Eskel had been run out, hey paid full price and gave him free room and board. Beyond that, they thanked him. Their local bard had been singing your songs the entire time. I owe you my thanks, as do all witchers who have travelled the path since you began to help. You haven't fixed everything, nor do I expect us to ever be accepted, but you've done more than anyone could have asked of you,"   
He'd dropped his hand onto Jaskier's shoulder, looking at him with a sincere smile on his face that nearly brought tears to Jaskier's eyes.

"I-" Jaskier stood stunned for a moment, his nerves shot and finally at rest at the same time. 

"It's my pleasure, Vesemir,"

"Which only makes it more worth thanks." He removes his hand from Jaskier's shoulder and continues the walk that had halted while they spoke.   
"Now, I'd hoped you will feel a little more at ease here as winter goes on, I could practically taste your anxiety when you walked in," He joked, making Jaskier's cheeks light up with both embarrassment and guilt. 

"I assure you, you are more than welcome here whenever you like, so long as you pull your weight of course," 

"Of course," He nodded, Jaskier could feel the smile on his face becoming less forced as time went on, this could be a good winter after all. 

Geralt took b load after a load of their supplies to his from, putting his few possessions and necessities away while leaving Jaskier's out on the bed, knowing the man would want to organize his own belongings. 

Seeing Jaskier's clothes strewn out on his bed had a weight to it that he hadn't expected.   
Jaskier has been his home on the path for years, and now he's brought him to the only physical place he's ever called home.   
He'll sleep with Jaskier in his bed, in his room, in his home, tonight and for the rest of the winter and he'll continue to bring him back until it's their bed, their room, and their home. 

It already feels a little more like theirs, Jaskier's lute leaning against the wall next to his swords, his notebooks soon to be tossed around every surface, papers filled with music notes and rhymes that Jaskier will destroy the room trying to find, only to scrap the line and ask Geralt to help with the mess while he starts over. Geralt can't wait. 

He can't wait for mornings when Jaskier's forgotten to wash his shirt and wears Geralt's bigger spare one down to breakfast. He can't wait for Jaskier to get piss drunk trying to keep up with himself and his brothers, having to carry him up to the bed and take care of him when he inevitably makes himself sick on their floor.   
Most of all, he can't wait for the sun to set tonight when he'll light the hearth with igni because Jaskier likes to watch his magic, then he'll shed Jaskier of his clothes and help him into something warm and comfortable for sleeping before he finally pulls him into his arms under the blankets, sweating because Jaskier needs it warmer than he does and pressing hisses all of Jaskier's face just to hear him laugh once before lulling himself to sleep to the sound of Jaskier's heartbeat evening out. He can't wait to do it all again tomorrow. 

Jaskier walked away from his conversation with Vesemire feeling lighter, finally allowing his excitement over really being here over-power his fear, seeing as he truly had little to worry about.  
Sure, he's still terrified of misstepping, saying the wrong thing or being over-bearing towards the witchers, but after meeting them he's sure that even if he does, they'll be able to sort it out. 

Now he can take in all there is to see in and around the keep, all the knowledge within these stones, centuries-old and hidden from the eyes of almost everyone really. The prospect of being the first person in a hundred years to see kaer morhen and all that's inside with his own two eyes had him practically vibrating with excitement. All he needs to start his adventuring is his witcher, to give him the grand tour without getting lost. 

Except, looking around if he tried to find Geralt he'd probably just get lost anyway.   
Right. Even with as comfortable as he now feels, he's not about to start shouting 'Geralt' at the top of his lungs and hope he follows the sound, but he's also not going to wander into the keep blindly. 

That left him with two options.   
Option one being, wait here for Geralt to come find him, or he could look for another witcher in the few rooms he'd been through and ask for help finding Geralt.   
Since he doesn't want to loiter in the dining room like a plant with its roots dug in, option two it is.   
Eskel seemed to be his best bet at the moment since he knew where he was and won't get lost looking for him, and he appeared to be quite nice, probably wouldn't mind showing him to Geralt's room. 

He walked outside quickly, having made up his mind.   
The stables were thankfully just a few feet from where the main entrance was since he'd taken off his cloak after speaking with Vesemire and hadn't put it back on to go outside, shivering the minute he'd left the warmth. 

In the stable, Eskel was kneeling near the back wall, speaking too quietly for Jaskier to make out any words. He could tell, however, that it was apparently a witcher thing to speak to your animals. 

"Eskel?" He asked cautiously, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything important between the man and his... goat? 

"Bard," Eskel answered, not turning away from where he was brushing down a small white goat. 

"Who's this?" He asked, forgetting almost immediately what his original purpose for coming out here was. 

"She's Lil' Bleater." He answered, moving over so Jaskier could kneel beside him. 

"Well isn't she gorgeous? However, did you come into possession of such a lovely girl?" He cooed, missing the way Eskel smiled in lou of watching Lil Bleater munch on a pile of hay and chopped up carrots left out for her. 

"I found her during a contract, wouldn't stop following me and she was just a kid so I kept her," He shrugged as if adopting a baby goat isn't the most precious thing Jaskier's ever heard." 

"Well, I can certainly tell you make an incredible Goat dad. I mean look at you two, a picture of familial bliss."   
Eskel huffed out a laugh at Jaskier's dramatics, already knowing that this was going to be a very eventful winter. 

"Do you want to pet her?"

"Obviously, a good girl such as this deserves all the pets in the world," He spoke excitedly, holding his hand just short of her fur, looking to Eskel for any sort of instruction or further permission. 

"I'd go for her back, she's a little wary of new people so stay clear of her mouth. Especially with fancy garb like that, she'll chew it to bits."

"Best not then," He laughed and rolled up his sleeves just in case, he hadn't brought much 'fancy garb' and wanted to have a few outfits to feel pretty in. 

He gently places his hand on her back, just under her neck and stroked down her spine, surprised by how soft her fur is. 

Eskel found himself smiling again, thinking oddly of the bard who had no hang-ups about him being a witcher, or him having a goat that he spoke to for that matter.   
It was surprising, but nice to see a human so indifferent about what most would deem strange or unwanted. Not only that, but Jaskier carried contagious energy about him, bubbling over with curiosity and joy despite all that he must have seen walking the path most of his life.   
It left Eskel smiling openly in front of the man, not even thinking twice about his scars for the first time in front of anyone but his family since he could remember. 

They met eyes when Lil' bleater, well, bleated, both of them breaking out into wide grins, akin to that of parents when a child spoke for the first time, broken apart by laughter at the absurdity of it. 

"You two are wonderful company, it's a pity it took so long to meet," 

Jaskier said after they'd spoken for a few more minutes about Eskel's life on the path and a bit about where his little companion fit into that life. Picturing her trotting along beside Eskel was enough to make Jaskier's heart melt inside his chest, even if it was truthfully unrealistic. 

"She is," Eskel agreed. 

"I was talking about you dear, though I can't deny your point." 

Jaskier was careful not to look at him as he spoke, assuming nonchalance would translate easier than sincerity given that they'd only just met. Casual compliments had worked with Geralt where overly meaningful ones would frighten him off. He'd learned to approach witchers with the same caution one might a spooked animal, and Geralt and his relationship was proof enough that it worked. 

Eskel paused for a moment, Jaskier has said it as if it were nothing like people should just enjoy his company without expecting anything in return. It made something inside of him tickle, it's been a while since someone new had easily fir their way into his life as if they'd been there forever, but he could already feel Jaskier wriggling his way inside him, even his goat liked him  
and Lil' Bleater's first impressions are never wrong. 

"Umm," He stuttered out eloquently. "Did you need something?"

Jaskier ruffled his brow in confusion for a moment, why would someone ask that in the middle of a conversation, until it came back to him why he was looking for Eskel in the first place. He's supposed to be asking for help to Geralt's room to unpack. 

"Oh! Yes, thank you for reminding me. Do you think you can help me find Geraly? I fear I'd lose my way if I tried on my own." 

"Of course," Eskel said, standing up and brushing the hay off his pants. 

"Right this way bard,"

He led Jaskier inside and up a few flights of stairs to a room in what he assumed was the tower that stood high over the treeline on their way up, if the number of stairs was anything to go by. 

"Right through the door there," Eskel spoke once they'd reached the top of the stairs, he could already hear Geralt walking around just on the other side of the wall. 

"Ah, thank you, darling," He bowed dramatically before Eskel, coming back to meet his amused smirk, the sight truly one for sore eyes. Not to be forthcoming, especially so close to Geralt, but Eskel is simply beautiful. 

Not in an attraction sort of way, simply in an un-deniable, aesthetic sort of way.   
He is quite simply beautiful. 

"You know, you truly have a dazzling smile," He breathed, speaking before his mind could chime any of the warning bells to stop him. 

Eskel's smile immediately fell, a look of sadness flashing in his eyes before it was replaced with a stone-faced glare, breaking Jaskier's heart.   
He looked as if he'd been struck, betrayed even. If Jaskier would summon any sort of chaos to himself he'd use it to turn back time and strike down every person who'd ever looked at Eskel funny, and then himself for making Eskel think he'd ever do the same. 

"Eskel-"

He had no time to continue his explanation before Eskel had turned and walked swiftly down the stairs. 

Jaskier felt small, like he'd already fuck it all up on his first day here. Ruined the one good thing he had going with Geralt's brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm not happy with how I wrote Eskel's character but let's ignore that.
> 
> Now to decide if the next chapter will make things better or worse


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt finds out about the incident with Eskel

"Jaskier?" He hadn't heard the door open behind him, lost in the guilt filling the air around him and forcing its way down his throat. 

Turning around, he threw himself into Geralt's chest, pulling himself as close as he could and greedily soaking u the comfort being in Geralt's arms gave. It was hard to not pull away as he felt he didn't deserve to be one being comforted after he'd hurt Eskel, but here with Geralt softly stroking his hair, he allowed himself to be selfish this once. 

"What happened Julek?" Geralt asked as he carefully maneuvered Jaskier into his room without letting his hold on the smaller man falter. 

"Eskel, I-"

"What did he do?" Geralt pulled away, hands holding Jaskier by his shoulders to look into his eyes, the beginnings of anger sparking behind his golden irises. 

"Nothing, it was my fault." He explained miserably, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his doublet. 

"I didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out, you know sometimes it's hard for my brain to catch up and control what I say and that's all it was I swear!"

"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted, noticing that his rambling was leaving no time for breathing, would quickly lead to panic-induced hyperventilating if he did calm him down. 

"Breathe, then tell me what you said. -Just- what you said,"

"Okay," Jaskier took a few deep breaths, placing his hands over top of Geralt's to ground himself in this room, right now.   
Geralt spoke softly through it, reminding him to breathe and that whatever had happened could be fixed, until Jaskier was breathing normally again. His chest was still tight with guilt, but no longer aching for oxygen. 

"I told him he had a nice smile,"

"Oh," Geralt sighed, pulling Jaskier back into his chest. 

He knows Jaskier isn't one to hold back when he sees something he deems beautiful or worthy of praise. He's a man of words, speaks his mind even before his mind can speak sometimes.   
He also understands that it's hard to accept sudden compliments over the very thing you hate about yourself. 

Eskel's been wary to smile every since his child surprise had given him his scars. Now, years later it isn't so bad, especially not here, but that's taking into account that no one mentions them when he's here, and Geralt had only warned him not to mentions the scars, not his smile.   
He'd simply have to try to convince Eskel that Jaskier wasn't being demeaning. It won't be easy, when Jaskier started doting on him it took nearly a year for him to accept that he'd meant it, even now he still doubts (on bad days).

"It's okay, he's- it's just hard for him to think of himself that way. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did, because I knew it was an insecurity of his, I knew and I still said it." He spoke shakily into Geralt's chest. As much as he loved Jaskier's strong sense of empathy, he hated how often he hurt himself because of it. 

"We'll fix it, and you two will be in good spirits by spring." He assured him, sealing it with a kiss to the top of Jaskier's head. 

"We already were,"

___

Geralt had managed to get Jaskier's mind off of Eskel by suggesting he start putting his stuff away and get ready for the night before they eat dinner. 

He'd accepted on the condition that they eat together, up here, alone just for the first night. Geralt simply nodded, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance that Vesemir not let that happen, seeing as they've all been eating together at least once a day for the whole of winter when it was possible, for as long as he can remember, but on the first night here if Jaskier is uncomfortable, he may let it slide. 

By the time dinner was ready Jaskier had packed his clothes away next to Geralt's, sorting them in a way Geralt wouldn't even begin to understand if he asked, his notebooks were, mostly stacked next to the bed for easy access when an idea came while he was sleeping or simply too comfortable to walk anywhere, while one was on the bookshelf, one buried in with his clothes, and two still packed away, one in his own pack and one in Geralt's saddlebag. 

"Available for whenever I may get a spark of inspiration," He'd explained when Geralt asked why he could possibly need a book stuck in the bottom of their pack.

Un-packing had had exactly the effect Geralt hoped it would, Jaskier got completely lost in the task, his mind empty other than where he was going to put each item and how he would store it.  
He was quiet, simply walking back and forth to the piles of his things Geralt had made on the bed, talking only when Geralt asked a question or offered his wisdom in the lay-out of his room and where he should keep certain things, like not to keep his shoes too close to the door lest he complain about them being cold if he had to put them on in a rush. He ended up leaving them by the harth. 

"It's time for dinner," Geralt stood out of the blue while Jaskier was organizing his oils and moisturizers and other such necessities. 

"What?" 

Before Geralt could repeat himself there was a sharp knock on the door, its suddenness causing Jaskier to drop his vile of lilac perfume, the glass smashing against the stone. 

"Stop fucking and come down here," Lambert shouted while Jaskier mourned his lost scent. 

"Brute," He muttered under his breath, collecting the pieces of glass into his palm. 

"Stop, you'll cut yourself," Geralt kneeled next to him, having produced a square of cloth seemingly from thin air, letting Jaskier drop the hand full of glass shards into the fabric before carefully tying up the top to seal in the sharp pieces. 

"You should head downstairs before you get a headache, I'll mop it up," Jaskier spoke softly, frustrated and not wanting to be alone, but knowing that if the strong smell was bothering him it must be suffocating to Geralt's heightened senses. 

"You know your way down?"

"Yeah, down the stairs and to the left. I'll find you, now go." He kissed Geralt's nose and wrapped the took the glass filled cloth from his hand so he could stand. 

"I love you," Geralt whispered, returning the kiss to Jaskier's nose as he stood to leave. 

"I love you more," He called, not caring for the following laugh it produced from Lambert downstairs. Damn enhanced hearing. 

He sighed as he went into Geralt's closet and pulled out a few cloths similar to the one used to clean the glass, said cloth already in the bin. 

Sopping up the perfume as best he could with just the cloth and water, the scent slowly began to dissipate, the strongest now coming from where he'd thrown out the soaked rags. He hoped, with the lid on the bin it would be mostly gone by the time they went to bed, not wanting the smell to keep Geralt up. 

Once he was finished and everything was cleaned and put away properly, he made his way downstairs and to the dining area. 

If he didn't know his way to the room he certainly would have been able to find it just by the sheer amount of noise they were making. He never would have guessed that witchers could be so talkative if only you put them all in a room together, maybe it's just him that makes them quiet he mused. 

Which would have been a funny thought if the room didn't grow deathly silent the second he walked in. He's never felt so unwelcome in a room, all eyes on him as they lost their merriment.   
His stomach immediately sank, churning with fresh and stronger anxiety he'd so recently killed.   
This was a mistake, he never should have come here. 

"Sorry," He said awkwardly, hating how his voice barely made it to his ears before he turned back around. The last thing he wanted to do was make their home filled with awkward tension, leave them unable to relax around each other and be open without a care like they were before he'd shown up to ruin it.   
He could wait until breakfast tomorrow to eat or pick at what little is left of their provisions from the road. 

Geralt's call of his name fell on deaf ears as he walked straight up the stairs and into his room, crawling into bed without bothering to look for provisions as be buried himself under the blankets and furs of Geralt's bed.

His body seemed hollow like he'd been drained of all energy and feeling.   
The whole way to kaer morhen he'd been exhausting himself with anxiety and over-thinking, not to mention the physical toll the path had had on him.  
Talking with Vesemir was a breath of fresh air, a reprieve that only lasted a little over an hour before the whole Eskel situation happened. Then there was the calming task of cleaning and organizing, it helped a bit, but smashing one of his favourite and only currently available perfumes brought back all the pent up frustration and nerves, he felt ready to implode with the force of them now. 

If this was to be the rest of the winter he knew the sadness he felt in the colder months would only grow deeper until he could hardly push himself from his room. He won't be able to pull his weight and Geralt's family will only hate him more, and who keeps a lover your family despises?

He'll be alone come spring if he doesn't find a way down the mountain sooner.   
Planning an excuse to leave, he drifted off, hoping somehow tomorrow would be better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt goes after Jaskier

When Jaskier entered the dining hall everyone paused what they were saying, laughter dying out into long, wheezed breathes, and all eyes were on the new addition to the room. 

Geralt cursed himself when he saw the flash of pain in Jaskier's eyes, from where he was standing the quiet must have appeared cold, shunning at its core.   
Jaskier muttered an apology and left back the way he came. 

"Jaskier!" Geralt called, standing up off his chair to follow him, only stopping when Vesemir stood with him, grabbing his arm. 

"Leave him," He said, firmly but not harsh. 

"But he-"

"Needs time to get comfortable her. If he's only okay while you're there to comfort him he'll think he's unwelcome by everyone else. Talk some sense into him tomorrow."  
Despite how much Geralt wanted to shake off Vesemirs hand and go scoop Jaskier up into his arms and hold him until it was better, he knew Vesemir was right. Jaskier needs to feel safe -here- not just with him, tomorrow he'll explain the whole situation, make him understand that he belongs here just as much as Geralt himself does.   
He only hopes his absence won't cause Jaskier to think he's unwelcome by the lot of them. 

The rest of dinner went by in relative silence, Lambert and Eskel making light conversation with Vesemire, truing occasionally to loop Geralt in with a question, but his mind was elsewhere, upstairs where Jaskier was probably silently hurting, crying into his bed while Geralt sits here picking at his food as if it matters more than Jaskier. 

"Go," Vesemire said once the food has settled in their stomachs and a reasonable amount of time to wait had passed, it felt like an eternity to Geralt. 

He mumbled his thanks and practically ran up to his room, opening the door quietly when he heard the familiar breathing pattern of Jaskier sleeping. 

He was laid out across the side of the bed, on the side furthest from the window and door, knowing Geralt liked to be between him and potential threats. His clothes were all still on, which Geralt could see from where the blankets had slipped off in his sleep, morning Jaskier would have a fit if any of his few good outfits was wrinkled to hell tomorrow.   
So he quickly lit a fire, making sure Jaskier wouldn't freeze when the blankets were inevitably kicked off again in the night. 

While waiting for the fire to heat up the room, Geralt mourned the loss of his earlier plans for the night. Jaskier would have been staring in familiar awe when he igni's the fire into existence, instead, he lay asleep in his clothes, without Geralt. 

Well, he could fix two of those things. 

Carefully as not to wake him, he pulled the blankets onto his side of the bed, peeling off Jaskier's socks and pants, lifting his limp body carefully to remove the doublet, leaving him in his smalls and undershirt that he usually slept in, if he wore any clothes at all. 

As Geralt was working his second arm slowly out of its sleeve, Jaskier stirred, blinking his eyes open in a sleepily-confused, adorable way. 

"Hmm?"

"Just getting out comfortable, love. Go back to sleep." He kissed the soft skin on the inside of Jaskier's wrist as he finally freed his arm, laying it gently back down on the bed. 

When he turned away to fold and carefully put away the garments, the barely-there scent of salty tears subtly filled the room. 

"Jaskier?" Kneeling before the bed he laid his head down on his hands, trying to meet Jaskier's eyes. 

"I'm sorry," His voice was strained and soft with the mix of emotions and sleep still sticking to his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin everything like this."

"No, Jaskier you haven't ruined anything, and you're staying with me this winter, if you need to leave then I'll be there too, but no one here wants you to leave okay?"

Jaskier's eyes screwed shut as his silent tears turned into heavy sobs, face buried into the bed below him to muffle the noise.   
Geralt shoved down the tightness in his throat and set his mind to making it better. 

He pushed himself off the floor and slipped into bed in front of Jaskier, pulling him into his chest. Running his hand, in what he hoped was a shooting motion, aup and down Jaskier's back. He tried to think of ways to bring the Jaskier he'd had the morning before they arrived back, what he could do to take the hurt away from Jaskier. He'd take it all onto himself if only he could, anything to see Jaskier; smile instead of letting him cry into his chest. 

"You're okay, you did nothing wrong, okay?" He took Jaskier's face in his hands, scouting down on the bed so they were face to face. Those eyes should never be so dark with hurt, never shed a tear that isn't of happiness.   
"I love you, and I'll love you tomorrow whether you decide to stay here or leave. I love you"

"I love you too," He choked out, breathing in shakily as he tried to rein in his emotions. 

"Why are you so good to me Geralt?"

He smiled and wiped Jaskier's cheek dry, "Only returning the favour, you're more deserving of it than I've ever been."

While the night wasn't what he'd imagined, Geralt still dell asleep with Jaskier in his arms, firing roaring and his mind just a little more at peace. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so short, I'm sorry. Tomorrow will definitely have a longer chapter. 
> 
> Also, I may start to update every other instead of every day, depending on how often I add to the story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

When Jaskier woke up, Geralt was still in bed beside him, arms wrapped firmly around his waist.   
He sighs happily and tucks himself closer into Geralt's arms, resting his head on Geralt's shoulder, not wanting to be awake just yet but not having it in him to fall back asleep and lose this moment. 

Shifting so he can see Geralt's face he runs his fingertips slowly over the swell of Geralt's arm, tracing familiar scars and muscle definition as he goes, content to lie here and simply memorize his lover.   
Which would have played out just fine if Witchers weren't such light sleepers. 

"Goodmorning," His voice rumbles deep in his chest, Jaskier can practically feel it where he's pressed against him, his voice even deeper than usual in the morning forcing a smile to Jaskier's face. 

"Goodmorning love," He replies, halting his path on Geralt's arm to instead wrap his around Geralt's neck and pull him closer. 

"I should get up soon," He whispers, running his hand through the hair on the back of Jaskier's head.

"No, I'll tie you down to the bed if I must. You simply cannot leave," Jaskier buckles down, wrapping his arms and legs around Geralt's body like a sloth, their bodies flush together.   
Geralt could easily overpower him if he wanted, but he had no desire to leave this space, especially seeing Jaskier smile after last night, he'd stay here forever if he could. 

"I didn't know you were into that," Geralt jokes, making Jaskier remove one of his limbs from the trap he'd created to deliver a slap to Geralt's arm before promptly replacing it. 

"You know damn well I am," 

"I do," Geralt grants him, running his fingers gently over Jaskier's ear and neck, making the bard shiver. 

"Mmh, do go on,"

He laughed softly, rolling over onto his back so Jaskier is completely on top of him, his limbs crushed beneath their combined weight. 

"I'd love to, but I have to get up or Vesemire will have my head if I stay here any longer." He explains, the combination of his low voice and hands rubbing gently up and down Jaskier's back almost sending the man back to sleep. 

"Then you'll come back?"

"Always," 

"Good, then shoo, the sooner you're gone the sooner you come back," He rolls off his chest and wedge his feet under Geralt's back to propel him up and off the bed. 

"You're changeable this morning." Geralt grumbled as he's flung into a standing position. 

"Lovingly so, though, you can't fault me for it." Blowing Geralt a kiss for good measure, he wraps himself back up in the blankets, ready to drift off into a lovely dream about his white night returning to their tower,

Until the blankets were cruelly ripped off the bed, leaving Jaskier freezing helplessly. 

He shoots up, a scandalized look on his face as he stares down his attacker, who's smirking and holding the stolen blankets in one hand. 

"You have to help out too," 

"I will! But I don't wake up at dawn like the rest of you," Geralt rolls his eyes and yanks Jaskier by the ankle until his legs are dangling off the bed. 

"It's mid-day," He crosses his arms, looking down at the man sprawled beneath him. 

"What? Why are you just waking up?" He pushes himself up on his elbows to face the window, gaging that it does, in fact, look like mid-day. 

"I didn't want you to wake up alone, you'd probably get lost trying to find breakfast."

"Would not," He argues, standing up and slipping his arms around Geralt's mid-section.   
"That's terribly sweet of you,"

"Hmm, now come on, if you don't get dressed I'll carry you down in your knickers."

"I'm not wearing knickers," He tugs at his smalls as if to prove it, "But you are carrying me now,"

He pulls on his pants and a loose-fitting chemise, not bothering with a doublet if he's right in assuming he'll be working inside today. 

"Come now, my steed." Geralt shakes his head fondly, but bends down in front of Jaskier, letting him jump up on his back and wrap his arms loosely around his neck. 

"I shall name you Roach," He lowers his voice a few octaves. 

Geralt snorts as he carefully makes his way down the stairs and into the main room, feeling his heart grow in his chest when Jaskier moves to rest his head on Geralt's shoulder. 

"I didn't know the bard was an invalid," Lambert comments as he sees the pair enter the room. 

"You're just jealous," Jaskier mumbles back. 

"Terribly, it's been so long since Geralt took me up in his big strong arms," He placed the back of his hand on his forehead, pretending to swoon over onto the chair beside him. 

Jaskier lifted his head to watch the show, giggling at the not-amused look on Geralt's face.   
He hitched Jaskier up on his back, cutting off his laughter in retaliation. 

"Rude, put my down you brute before you make me bite off my tongue,"

Geralt releases his hold on Jaskier's legs and drops him onto his feet, the two of them sinking down into seats beside each other, apparently waking up just in time for lunch. 

When Vesemir walked in, Jaskier was reminded of last night and the feelings it had caused resurfacing. Anxiety began to rise in him, threatening his good morning at the prospect of being explicitly unwanted again.   
Geralt, seeing the change in Jaskier's demeanour, took his hand beneath the table and giving it two gentle squeezes, a silent 'are you okay?'

Jaskier tapped the back of Geralt's hand once with his thumb, indicating that he is okay, for now. While he is a bit uncomfortable and scared to be the cause of tension here, he's okay with Geralt at his side and Lamber was proving to have no qualms against Jaskier, not to mention he was quite funny. 

"Good afternoon," Vesemire spoke as he carried lunch to the table, a simple tray of bread, cheese, and slice pieces of last night's deer dinner.   
They each filled their plates generously, eating in relative silence. It hung heavily over Jaskier's head, the rest of the witcher's not noticing the awkward tilt to the silence. 

"What jobs will you have Jaskier doing?" Geralt broke the silence, addressing Vesemir. 

"I'd like the library cleaned and organized, it's been abandoned for quite some time. I imagine it will take you a while, but I'll occasionally ask you for help elsewhere." He explained. 

Jaskier was relieved, spending his days in a library older than most books he's read, with free rein of the materials inside? It's like a dream come true, especially seeing as he had thought he'd be scrubbing floors or playing assistant to witchers all winter. 

"Thank you, I'll get started as soon as we're finished." He said, itching to get to the books. 

"At your own pace boy, I won't have you over-working yourself,"

"Of course," He ducked his head, trying to hide his eagerness to get working by shoving bread into his mouth. 

"Lambert, I'll have you working with me in the armoury, Eskel and Geralt, you'll ve repairing the eastern wall and stables. Work until dinner and you're done for the day," They looked between each other and nodded, the workload pretty light for the beginning of the winter, pleasantly so. 

Jaskier silently thanked melitele that he wasn't of the strength the majority of the keep held so he could be lounging in the library all winter while the witcher did the heavy lifting. Once upon a time he'd have thought himself selfish, but it's far from selfish to know your limits, and he'd take up work the others thought tedious anyway.   
Maybe he could find some tea and make a day out of his job. 

Lunch/Breakfast was over quickly, he silently mourned the loss of having everyone in the same room. It was a slow step to being more than a guest but it was a step none the less. Even if making quick eye contact with Eskel felt like a step backwards when the witcher frowned and looked away.   
With a stab of guilt, he looked away and stared down at his plate. He felt Geralt tense beside him and found him glaring openly at Eskel. He gasped and slapped Geralt's shoulder, mouthing a quick 'stop' while shaking his head.   
He wanted to apologize to Eskel for the way he, and now apparently Geralt too acted, but didn't want to do it in front of everyone, expecting the interaction to be awkward anyway but there's no need to bring everyone into it.

"Alright, boys, outside, Lamber you start on clean up I'll take over in a minute."   
Lambert scowled but began collecting everyone's empty dishes anyway. 

Vesemir flicked his fingers in a 'follow me' way to Jaskier, who hopped down and followed the older man without question down halls to their destination. 

"This is the library," 

With the initial introduction, Jaskier felt a little more excitement die inside him. The place looked older than time, the last thing in here was a tornado, or perhaps a pack of wyverns with a dis-interest in the literary world, at least that's what it looked like.   
Shelves were broken, books strewn about everywhere, dusty, ripped, and obviously not read in years. There was one corner of the room with an actually intact bookshelf, he assumed filled with books that were actually read within the past decade. 

"You'll burn anything unsalvagable, organize what you can and put the remaining books in reading order. You'll clean and repair what you can before putting them away, the boys can fix or build shelves at your word, you need only ask." Vesemire explained, and Jaskier now understood why he'd said this would take a while, it felt like he'd be here all winter at this rate. 

"Okay," He breathes, looking around and trying to figure out where to start, pretending he doesn't feel slightly overwhelmed. 

He already knows that someday he won't be able to figure out where to starts and will spiral into general dysfunctioning from there, getting nothing done. He can only hope that most days will be the ones where he -must- be working on a specific task, hopefully, it'll be this one, but he knows the odds of that are slim to none. His chest is already feeling heavy, his arms stiff with the thought of forcing himself to work through the blockade in his mind. 

"Is there a problem?" Vesemir asks, probably noticing the way Jaskier's began to fold in on himself. 

"No, nope, no problem at all," He shoots him as real a smile as he can manage, straightening out his spine to at least appear problem-less. 

"Don't be afraid to tell someone if there is, you aren't a prisoner here, nor are you a slave."

"I know," He answered, letting his shoulders fall from where they were trying their very hardest to get into his ears. 

"If you need anything Geralt is outside, and I'll be around." 

He nods and turns back to the mess as Vesemir leaves, eyes scanning the books and waiting for his brain to tick, telling him to start.   
In a few minutes, when that doesn't happen, he sighs and starts by picking books up off the floor, dusting them off with his hand and placing them on one of the tables in the middle of the room.  
That task is simple enough and takes an okay chunk of time out of his workday.   
Several stacks of books litter both tables when he has the floor mostly clean and broken shelves emptied.   
Now, he thinks as he plops down on the chair, Now to sort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed my filler. :)   
> Next chapter, Geralt talks to Eskel about what happened between him and Jaskier.   
> (Will be posted on Monday(probably))


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long, but I did say it would be posted on Monday, I never specified -which- Monday.

Outside, Geralt and Esekl were working in silence, removing rubble from around the broken wall and into a pile of stones and wood that would be saved to burn.   
Usually, those two working outside wasn't a silent or mechanical ordeal, they would use signs, make it a competition, or simply make it harder than it needed to be, using up the time they hadn't seen each other all year to the fullest.   
But now, the air was stiff around them, as they sat on the pile of broken stones for a small break, Geralt broke the silence before it could suffocate them. 

"He didn't mean to be insensitive," He started, passing his water skin to Eskel as he spoke. 

"I know," He answered, "But I don't find it funny to joke about,"

"He wasn't joking either," He pressed, trying to get it into Eskel's mind. He knows it's not easy to understand, but hating the way the incident is making both Jakier and Eskel feel, this isn't how the first winter here with Jaskier was supposed to go. 

Eskel looked over at him and raised his eyebrows into a 'really?' face. 

"I know he's blunt, but he means well. It took me years to realize he was being genuine and not just another asshole who likes to poke fun. If you can't trust him, trust me not to lie to you."

Eskel searched his eyes for a few moments before looking away, not offering him an answer, but Geralt could feel he was beginning to get somewhere. 

"He feels awful like he's screwed up his chances at you liking him already. I'm not asking you to forgive him just, don't let that be what turns you away from him,"

Eskel continued to stare at the ground, his hands fidgeting in his lap while he held back to urge to rub at his cheek (something he used to do so aggressively so often that he'd make the skin around his scars bleed.)

"I'll think about it,"

"That's all I ask," Geralt answered, patting Eskel on the back once before going back to work, leaving Eskel to think. 

\--

Jaskier spun sharply at the knock sounding from behind him, settling against his seat when he turned to see Geralt standing in the doorway, cheeks adorably pink with the cold. 

"Hello dear," He smiled brightly, running the few steps to wrap his arms around Geralt's neck, wriggling in Geralt's arms when he pushed his cold hands under Jaskier's shirt. 

"Ooh, refreshing," He teased. 

"How's fixing the library?" He asked, not removing his finer from Jaskier's back. 

"Ugh," He groaned into Geralt's chest at the reminder. "No one told me it seconded as a training ground,"

Geralt chuckled and pulled away, walking through the room that was still in the torn apart state it had been in earlier, now with piles of half-sorted books. 

"I can see you've been working hard,"

"Oh yes, and I expect the wall is already fixed?" He shot back, hand on his hips. 

"Yes, actually,"

Jaskier's mouth fell open dramatically, his hands limp on his hips. 

"Kidding, are you having a hard time starting?"

"Yes," He sighed, "I just can't get myself to do it. I'll have next to nothing done by dinner and Vesemir is going to think I'm worthless," He huffs, falling as if he's been struck onto the table behind him, next to where Geralt is standing. 

"You're probably right, he'll throw you out by nightfall."

"I'll be frozen solid before dawn." He finished, smiling fondly up at Geralt. 

"You know," Geralt mused, a plan forming in his head, "Being in here reminds me of digging through the piles of lore and bestiaries to find old poetry books a few years after we met." He reminisced, twirling a bit of Jaskier's hair between his finger. It was a true story, he found himself inexplicably missing Jaskier, not that he'd admitted it at the time, and the one thing around the keep he could use to be close to him was the old books he knew existed somewhere deep in the forgotten volumes.   
He found bits of him in the flowery language and poetic prose, but it wasn't the same, Jaskier was wholly unique, unlike any other poet or bard or person he'd ever met.   
That spring when he'd met Jaskier again, the bard had run to him, probably to begin his annual 100 words per minute catch up of what he'd done all winter, but Geralt cut him off before he could start, his mind working on auto-pilot as he grabbed Jaskier around the waist and lifted him into his arms, spinning him in the air and basking in the relief he'd felt when he heard Jaskier laugh for the first time in months, burying his face in Jaskier's hair and drinking him in.  
That was the year he'd realized that everyone who'd ever saif witchers couldn't love were wrong. 

"You really did that?" He asked softly, "Wait, there are poetry books here?" He shouted before Geralt could answer his question, exactly as Geralt had imagined it in his head. 

"Centuries-old," He added, smirking to himself as Jaskier began to sift through the books still on shelves, adding them to the previously amassed piles. At this rate he'd be done before the week was out, that is if he doesn't mention that the poetry books are still in his room. 

"I've got to go back outside now,"

"I'll see you later than, love," He called, not looking up from the untitled book he was flipping through. 

Geralt tolled his eyes, happy to know Jaskier wouldn't spiral into a restless mess, stuck in the room and unable to do anything he was begging himself to do. He hated seeming Jaskier like that, worked up, pacing, frustrated sometimes to tears because he couldn't work out the energy stuck inside of him. 

He sometimes wonders what it's like in Jaskier's mind, he'd asked him to try and explain it once, which began in a slur of metaphors about a flock of birds all flying in different directions, some unable to fly at all, and some who couldn't stop flying. The explanation ended in a story about the time he was run out of a town for hitting the alderman over the head with his lute.  
Geralt stopped asking after that and instead started trying to ease his mind when he couldn't rest, as often as he could, learning Jaskier all the while.   
It was a small thing he could give back to the man after years of him saving Geralt from his own mind. 

\--

The witchers finished their jobs and Jaskier ended up making a sturdy dent in his by the time Vesemir called for dinner, sparking a collective sigh of relief from all present Kear-Morhen employees. 

Jaskier set down the book he was skimming (regrettably without a line of poetry in sight) and practically ran to the dining hall, where Vesemir was lying out bread and butter to complement the hearty stew that had been cooking most of the day, and whose smell had been driving Jaskier wild since it started to boil. 

"This looks delicious," Jaskier sighed, taking in a deep breath through his nose.

"Thank you, but don't get used to it, we tale cooking in turns, I can only warn you to strengthen your gut for Lambert's turn,"

He laughed brightly as the snow-covered witchers entered the hall, taking their seats. 

"I'll just have to savour your turns all the more."

Vesemir turned away with a fond shake of his head, placing the stew pot in the middle of the table so everyone could serve themselves.   
Geralt sat heavily beside Jaskier, placing his hand just above his knee. 

He beamed up at him in response, his mood has been subtly improving all day, topped off with the delicious stew warming his gut. His first bite was accentuated by an appreciative moan, after not tasted properly seasoned and prepared food in months.  
Too caught up in the flavour, he missed the silence his obscene noise had caused, broken only when Lambert threw his head back and laughed. 

"I was expecting to hear that at night, but now w\ve gotta suffer through meals too?" He joked, making Jaskier's cheeks flush. 

"Shut up, he's only upset because the only sounds coming from his room come from his hand." Geralt retaliated, placing a chopped potato on the end of his spoon and pulling back like a catapult, sending it flying at Lambert's face. 

Jaskier couldn't hold back the startled laugh that broke out of him when the vegetable hit Lambert square between the eyes before plopping into his own bowl. 

"Oi!" Lamber skipped the decorum of utensils and showed his fists into his bowl, throwing back a chunk of meat as well as an unreasonable amount of brother at Geralt, and by proximity, Jaskier.

"Lambert, I seem to recall raising you past the age of twelve?" Vesemr scolded, the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. 

"Geralt shot first!"

"My point stands, need I re-iterate that food goes -inside- your mouth?" He asked voice raised as if he were speaking to a toddler, demonstrating with his own food. Lambert sulked silently while the rest watched on in stifled laughter. 

"You could demonstrate for Geralt too, while you're at it," He mumbled, pulling his bowl closer to himself with his still broth covered hand. 

Jaskier nearly lost his last bite out of his nose laughing at their familial antics, Geralt slaps him on the back while he coughs, an amused smile plastered on his face. It's hard to imagine that Geralt had been in denial about them being family, right here and now Jaskier sees more of a family than he's ever had.   
It seems things are finally looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaha I hate this chapter, I promise when I get myself out of this little rut chapters will be better, until then I'm sorry but I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. (It's written but no online, it's just a matter of getting myself to actually type it up)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, I just wanted to thank you all for your comments, if I don't respond please know that I appreciate it so much and re-read your words every day to keep me motivated, I just don't know how to respond most of the time while seeming genuine even though I am. But I see you, and I love you.  
> On with the chapter.

Jaskier is woken up, rather rudely, by consistent stomps and bangs sounding from downstairs, the occasional muffled shout joining in and echoing through the halls. It sounded distantly like a one-man-band.  
On top of the rude awakening, he's alone in the oversized bed, no arms wrapped around his waist or chest he can bury his head into to block out the noise. It's all in all not a very good start to the day. 

Just as he was about to substitute a pillow for Geralt's chest for noise cancellation, the sound of voices became less muffled, turning from unintelligible warbling to the sounds of a distant argument, multiple people at the same time shouting 'Lambert' giving him all the context he needed. 

'Oh,' He thinks, 'that makes sense'

Rolling out of bed and wrapping up in one of his pretty outfits, an emerald green doublet with hold lacing and buttons, matching pants paired with an off white undershirt, the ensemble doing wonders for the over-looked flecks of green in his eyes. 

Doing up his butt bow to complete the piece, he shoves open the door and walks straight into the crossfire. 

"You need to control yourself!" Eskel speaks up in a booming voice that reverberates in his ribcage. 

"Bold accusations coming from you Eskel!" He shouts back, "Try telling that to the town you almost burned to the ground when you couldn't -control yourself-!"

Eskel visibly retreated but stood his ground. It was obvious Lambert had struck a nerve. 

"That wasn't fair," Vesemir steps in, putting his hands out to physically separate the two brothers. Lambert bares his teeth and very nearly growls at the older man. 

"I'm not a child,"

"I know," He says, voice softening a touch but holding his authority, it rang out like something he'd done thousands of times before, with the boys he's raised Jaskier's not surprised he needs to slip in and out of authority figure easily. 

"Eskel, go back to your chores. Lambert, you can continue when you're ready." He finalizes, ignoring the angry mutterings from both parties while Lambert stomps out of the room. 

"Jaskier, I'm sorry you had to wake up to that." He speaks exasperatedly, sitting heavily down into a chair by the fireplace. 

"No need to apologize, shall I continue with yesterday's task?" 

"Yes, feel free to our pantry if you'd like some breakfast first."

"Thank you," Jaskier smiles, but doesn't take him up on the offer, instead switches gears to starting on the library where he'd left off yesterday. 

-

"Oh," Jaskier gasps softly, surprise to see Lambert sitting in the corner of the library, flipping through the pages of a book far too quickly to be intaking any information. 

"Hello dear," He spoke wearily, hoping not to escalate the supposed situation any further. Lambert didn't answer, kept his attention on the book in front of him instead. 

That was fine, everyone needs a little space now and then, but Jaskier couldn't exactly leave, so he started whistling to himself as he set to work, keeping away from the side of the library Lambert had taken refuge in as he picked up, flipped through, and sorted books.  
The piles he had so far were bestiaries, cook-books of sorts, alchemy, geography, history, and a few miscellaneous fiction books, still, no poetry the designated corner of the desk still barren and increasingly sad as the other piled grew around them.

"Why are you here?" Lambert spoke up after about an hour, his book disregarded to the side. 

"Vesemir asked me to clean it, I can give you your space if you'd like, still breakfast to be had." He offered, trying to defuse the situation before it began. 

He knew all too well the way a frustrated witcher worked, making an argument, pulling anger from anything just to inflict pain, cause trouble to stew in so they can understand the feelings around them until they regret it and have no clue how to fix the mess they've made. 

"No, I mean -here-" He pointed to the round, standing up ad he did. If Jaskier were anyone else he may have been intimidated by the aggressive nature of it, but with him being who he is, took a step towards him, hoping to turn the beginnings of a fight into a casual conversation. 

"I came with Geralt."

"Geralt used to talk about you all those years ago, about how he just couldn't seem to make you leave. How you stuck to him like mould. I guess he never did end up getting you to fuck off, and now you're here, inflicting yourself upon the rest of us." He bit out, the words sounding almost rehearsed, precise, a thought out blow to hit him where it hurt. 

He tried to seem unbothered, he knows Geralt loved him, isn't the man he was when Jaskier first joined him, but he has no logic-based reason to convince himself he's not 'inflicting himself' upon the rest of them. 

"I'm sorry if you feel I've intruded on your home, is there anything I can do?"

"You can leave,"

With his final arrow shot, he stood and kicked down a pile of books Jaksier had built up in the corner, leaving him alone. 

It took a moment for Jaskier to collect himself, urging his eyes to stop watering as he distracted himself with picking up the mess Lambert had left behind. 

Going back to his thoughts, he accessed that Lambert wasn't being genuine, he was isolating himself and hurting anyone around him so they would feel how he was feeling, the same thing he'd done to Eskel when he first walked into the fight. The same thing Geralt had done on the mountain, logically he knew this. And yet, it didn't hurt any less. /p>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there is a chance this story takes a good while to continue or gets hastily finished because this is the worst writing I've done in a while and continuing this feels more like a responsibility than something I enjoy at this point.  
> I may come back around to it but for now I don't know how long until the next chapter and I am very sorry.  
> But I will not abandon this work, so rest assured there will be a proper ending, I just can't say when.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been approximately 38 years since I updated this I am so sorry this took so long but as promised I did not abandon this story and your guys' comments really helped me push through the barrier that was stopping me from writing this and I'm finally being treated for ADHD so maybe I'll find some consistency now. Anyway, here's a new chapter I hope you enjoy :)

Geralt walked into the library a few hours later, after Jaskier had collected himself. 

"I'm on dinner duty tonight if you want to help."  
He nodded softly, wanting to be out of this room and doing anything but wallowing in his fear, sorting books on auto-pilot. 

"What's for dinner?" He asked as he took Geralt's hand in his.

"The chickens Vesemir keeps in the spring and summer months,"

"His children!" He gasped in mock horror. 

"His sustenance," Geralt corrected, secretly glad the chickens are already butchered so Jaskier won't be around for the beheading of Vesemirs 'children'. 

"But he raised them," 

"He raised them so they would be fat enough to eat," He scoffed at Jaskier's tender heart and the thought of not reaping perfectly good food for the sake of companionship with a chicken. 

"You're heartless," Jaskier pouted dramatically, rolling his sleeves up as they arrived in the kitchen.  
Geralt takes a moment to appreciate his forearms before following suit. 

"So you're not going to be eating then?" He teased, nudging Jaskier's shoulder with his own. 

"Not even the gods could stop me from eating Vesemirs children," 

Vesemir could hear Geralt's resulting laugh all the way from his room and silently wondered if dinner would be served at all at this rate. 

They fell into the easy rhythm that they usually dud while preparing meals on the path. Geralt would chop up the meat and vegetables while Jaskier slowly worked his way through the entire collection of herbs and spices, licking his finger and dipping it into the powders just to suck it off and decide whether or not it was worthy of going in their meal. More than once he's directly applied a heavy spice to his tongue and had to take a moment to sire down, empty multiple water skins into his mouth to stop the burning and start the game of roulette over again. 

The spices are labelled, but Geralt flipped them around after the first time Jaskier blindly stuck his finger into the cayenne pepper and had to gargle goat's milk for an hour. 

While this did leave Geralt doing most of the work, he also got to watch Jaskier shake his arms and hands in excitement when he found the perfect seasoning that would make their dinner worthy of the gods' - not to mention watching him red in the face, tongue hanging out like a dog as he fanned his mouth with his hands, as if a small breeze would extinguish the spice. 

"Oooooh, I don't think I'll even be able to taste it at this point," Jaskier exclaimed, rubbing at his tongue with the sleeve of his tunic, his index finger stained a deep orange-ish red. 

"No one asked you to taste them all," Geralt pointed out to halt Jaskier bemoaning his numb mouth all night. 

"I'm sorry for wanting your family to enjoy flavoured food after months of unseasoned rabbit and water broth soup," 

Geralt laughed with a shake of his head, it was true though, that oftentimes on the path sub-par, at best, food was all that was available. They'd learned to be thankful for any food, not hung up on the taste, anything better than starvation. 

Jaskier didn't always see it that way and when he could, bought jar after jar of herbs, spices and occasionally sauces to add to their meals. It was always a treat, lifted some of the misery from the path that Geralt never would have thought to indulge in by himself.  
They'd made deliciousness out of food that once tasted like dirt, eating like kings, as Jaskier would say. 

"How gracious of you," 

"I know," He said as he plopped himself down on the counter Geralt had just cleaned of his preparations. Now all that was left to do was to let the food cook and serve it. 

"It smells good," Jaskier took a deep inhale of the steam coming off the pan over the fire, adding more pinched fingers of nameless seasonings to the piece of chicken he'd decided was his. It was the smallest of the bunch, and since he was also the smallest of the current bunch, it seemed fitting. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him as he watched him dump even more salt on his food. 

"What?"

"If you treat everything like that you'll be stuck eating water broth soup by mid-winter."

"Ugh," Jaskier made a face of deep offence. "I would never leave us all off like that,"

"Sure, now fo get Eskel from outside, I'll get the others,"

"What if I got Vesemir and you got the others?" He suggested conspicuously, not ready yet to be alone with Eskel when he's sure it will only be thick silence and forced non-eye contact the whole way through dinner. 

"Because you don't know how to get to Vesemir's room," Geralt added, wiping his hands off on his shirt after he's removed the food from the fire. 

"You could tell me?" 

"Last time I trusted you to follow directions I had to spend my night tracking you down, in the opposite direction that I'd told you to go," He deadpanned. 

"Right, well to be fair the instructions were very unclear and all the brush was very thick, I could hardly even see, in here, however-"

"If you don't go get Eskel I will cook you, without spices," Geralt added, pointing a knife non-threateningly at Jaskier. 

"Gods, fine," He grumbled, slipping off the counter and mumbling to himself as he left. 

"What if I told the continent you tried to eat me? The white wolf! Cannibal of the blue mountains!" 

\--

Eskel was out by the west wall, dusting his gloves off against his leg when Jaskier came into view. Ever the wordsmith, Jaskier stumbled as he approached his target, blubbering out an eloquent: "We're - get.. food?"

Cringing to himself before the words even left his mouth, he refused to meet Eskel's eyes in a desperate attempt to not make the other uncomfortable. Eskel nodded, beginning the short walk back inside. 

He looked down at Jaskier, twisting his fingers anxiously, eyes trained on the ground as if looking anywhere else would turn him to stone.  
Just imagining who Jaskier was the day they met, only two days ago now, seemed like he'd been replaced with someone else entirely. The once hyperactive energy that comes off of him in droves was nowhere to be found, he couldn't help but wonder if it were him or Jaskier that was more upset about what had happened between them.  
If Geralt were to be believed then it just might be Jaskier. 

Thinking it over carefully he decided he'd take Geralt's advice and if he's wrong about Jaskier being a good person, he'd bear the repercussions of his next actions. 

"Bard," Jaskier stopped in his tracks, nearly slipping on the freshly fallen snow as he turned to face Eskel. He looked weary, bordering on scared, but nor of Eskel, not for the reason he's used to humans being scared of him. 

"You've got a nice smile too," 

Jaskier could have fallen straight to the ground with the weight of relief that flooded him in that moment, while it was the last thing he'd expected to hear, he could see in those amber eyes that this wasn't a strange sort of mockery or pay-back that he didn't mean. It was its own form of a peace treaty. A second chance to do it right and Jaskier wasn't sure he would stop smiling the rest of the day now. 

"Thank you," He breathed, both of them knew it was for more than the compliment. 

Geralt watched as Eskel and Jaskier walked back inside, no tension or anxiety following them but small, barely-there smiles and blush on Jaskier's cheeks. He let out a breath he felt he'd been holding since he'd found Jaskier almost in teats outside his door. 

Meeting Eskel's eyes he nodded his thanks, knowing it hadn't been easy for him to forgive Jaskier, but the act itself, he knew, would make all of their winters better, even if Eskel couldn't see it yet. 

Eskel nodded back as he took his seat at the table on the opposite side of Geralt that Jaskier had claimed. Vesemire was at the head of the table, as usual, having already served himself and waiting for the others to do the same. 

"Where's Lambert?" 

The entire room faced Vesemire when the words were registered. This morning's public argument then his and Jaskier are more private ones, now at the forefront of his mind. 

Jaskier hadn't told Geralt what had happened, not wanting to start any unnecessary hostility between the brothers, and he held onto the hope that Lambert was merely projecting and didn't truly want him gone. 

"He's in his room, I brought him a plate," Geralt explained as he settled his own and Jaskier's plates in front of them.  
Vesemir simply nodded and went back to his own meal. 

"He'll be back to himself by morning, best we leave him alone for now."

Jaskier thought it better that way. He'd just started to fix things with Eskel, he doesn't want to worry about his and Lambert's relationship just yet, not when he's laughing and trading stories with the rest of them over dinner, Vesemire offering up tales about Geralt from before he has even turned twenty.  
Jaskier listened with single-minded focus, even as Geralt rolled his eyes and hid his face with the bottom of his cup. He only told the stories that weren't surrounded in pain and blood, sticking to light-hearted tales, the first sign Geralt cast or the time he and Eskel snuck away into the forest to avoid studying.  
It made them seem, almost normal. As if they were any other family. 

Of course, they all knew what the days here were really like when the trials began. The gruesome, agonizing details of what they're been ut through life in their minds since they happened since Geralt had opened up to Jaskier about his past. 

He hated the torture they'd been put through, would have stopped the practice himself if witchers weren't already no longer being made. But, in some, horribly selfish ways, he's thankful for every part of the pst that brought him and Geralt together. Despite the nightmares, the pain he wished every day he could take away, he wonders if they would have met if Geralt had lived any other life.  
Anyhow, Geralt has made peace with his pasts. The life they have now, he wouldn't trade it for the childhood that's been stolen from him. He's exactly where he wants to be, with Jaskier, his brothers and Vesemir all in the same place. Himself, in the relationship he never thought he could have and it's sweeter, more loving than he deserved, he revels in it even now. 

Especially now, Jaskier latched onto the tales Vesemire weaved before him, while they share a meal they made for their family. He got lucky, even if he had to be horrible unlucky first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is aggressively unedited so feel free to point of mistakes to me

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought with a comment or kudos if you like!  
> Come say Hi on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jaskiersbrokenlute


End file.
